I ate a bagel and and nutrition bar (which, of course, I swiped from a Google minikitchen) and then headed out the door without a plan. I figured I might go shopping or hit the Alcatraz tour.
I hopped on the Muni and rode it out to the Embarcadero. I then began walking. I walked a lot. I walked along the Embarcadero, climbed up Telegraph Hill to Coit Tower, went back down to Fishermans' Wharf and along the shorline to the Golden Gate Bridge, crossed the bridge, crossed back, wandered the Presidio, and then walked all the way back (partially on the very steep Divisidero) to my house in Duboce. The Gmaps Pedometer says it was a little under 15 miles in all, all done in my flat-footed Ben Sherman Comptons—not good walking shoes. I was out for five or six hours. My feet hurt now.
It was nice to have a nice, slow tour of the city. Walking the shoreline, all I could think about was the San Francisco level on Tony Hawk's Pro Skater 4, which is a replica of the Embarcadero area and Pier 39.
I then came home and watched Garden State, which I've never seen before and, surprisingly, I really loved it (much like I really loved High Fidelity). Behind my stoic exterior, I've got a soft spot for bittersweet romantic comedies. I then watched Eddie Izzard's Dress to Kill. Otherwise, I've been hanging out at the house this evening, doing laundry and cleaning up.
Well, now you all know the exciting details of my dull little life. I'm going to go to bed now. I'm exhausted.